“Yeah, it could,” Ethan said. “So what? If we decide to go get Cassie, and she’s not there, we’ve just made a dumb mistake. But if we’re right, then we’ve gotta do it. And hey, we’re not exactly helpless. Even if they have guns, we have the element of surprise.”
Olivia looked at him, trying not to smile. He’s so great, she thought. The youngest person here, the one that people would call a geek or a nerd. But he’s like a lion. She thought of David with his sling.
“The element of surprise is crazy important,” Royal said. “I know that from fightin.’”
“I heard that,” Celeste agreed. “Put yourself in the kidnappers’ shoes.” Her nose wrinkled with disgust at the thought. “They’re expecting the great Eff Bee Eye to come after them, with all their satellites and tanks and such. Or at least a local SWAT team. So what are they gonna get, God willing? Four teenagers. A Jewish girl, two ‘city kids,’ and one little white-bread boy.” She winked at Ethan.
“I’m not so little,” he replied with dignity. “And just for that, I’m not gonna tell you about Fifi.”
“No fair!” Celeste wailed.
Once again, against all odds, the group broke into laughter.
* * * * *
Brandon Fox had not lived the easiest life on earth. His body was healthy and unmarked, but inside, he was battered and scarred in a dozen painful ways. That was nothing new. But now, standing outside the door to the white room, he was about to do the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He opened the door and walked in. She’s not here. The video screen is turned off. She must be in her bedroom. He crossed the white carpet slowly, knowing that Dayle’s eyes might be watching him, and tapped on the door to her sleeping quarters. “Cassie?” he called out softly. “Are you awake?” He never knew when she might be napping, or praying, or whatever she did when she was alone.
In a moment, the door swung open. “Hey, you,” she said, grinning, a bath towel in her hand. Her hair was wet, dripping onto the shoulders of her t-shirt. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” he replied. “Can I, um, come in? For a second?” He rolled his eyes, shifting them back and forth, trying to give her the message: no cameras.
She understood. “Well, yeah, for a minute. I just finished getting dressed.” She stood aside, rubbing her hair with the towel, allowing him to come inside.
He walked in and stood against the nearest wall, out of sight of the cameras in the white room. “So, what are we gonna do today?” he asked, making conversation for the benefit of any microphones that might be hidden. “I’d challenge you to another arm-wrestling match, except my hand is sore.” But he conveyed a different message with sign language. He pointed to her, then himself, then gestured with one hand, like working a sock puppet. We need to talk, he was saying. He inclined his head toward the white room and the hallway.
She understood. “Oh, you’re a big baby! But I’m always glad to get out of this room. Especially with you.” Realizing what she’d said, she blushed. “I mean, it’s nice to have somebody to talk to. . . . Let me go hang up this towel.” She hurried into the bathroom and draped it over the rack, then pulled a brush through her hair.
She’s not making this any easier, Brandon thought. He slouched against the wall, hands thrust into the pockets of his gym shorts. He saw the manacles for the first time and grimaced. When Cassie emerged from the bathroom, he straightened up and forced a smile. “Ready?”
“I’m ready,” she replied. “Let’s go to the hall.” Suddenly she snorted in a very un-ladylike laugh. “Hey! You know what we should call that place? The Social Hall. That’s where we socialize.”
As they walked through the white room, she remembered a verse, and smiled. The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me? She paused, and blew kisses to each of the four walls, where the hidden cameras were located. “Hi there, kidnappers! Having a nice day? Why not eat some of those strawberries? They’re really good.” Brandon gaped at her. Is she crazy? No . . . she’s just brave, or pretending to be brave. She grabbed his hand and they walked into the hall, closing the door behind them.
After walking about fifteen feet, she turned to face him. “You said we needed to talk. Should we sit down?”
“Defs,” he said. As usual, they sat on the floor, backs to the wall, as comfortable as they could make themselves. “What was all that with the kisses and the strawberries? Are you just trying to piss them off?”
She shrugged. “No, not really. But what are they gonna do? They’ve already beaten me once, and I don’t think they’re gonna kill us. I just want them to know I’m not giving in to them. Brandon, we may be their captives. But I’m not gonna think of myself as a victim. I won’t let ‘em do that to me.” Her face was a mask of determination.
This girl. . . . I’ve never known anybody like this. Especially a girl. What makes her so strong? Is it that Christian thing, or is she really a little bit crazy? She doesn’t seem to be crazy, and I’ve seen crazy girls. Whatever it is . . . I wish I had some of it right now. He cleared his throat. “Cassie . . . you’re amazing. You know what I think? I kinda think that the Goth, and that guy on the video screen . . . they’re your captives.” Before she could reply, he leaned over and kissed her. She caught her breath; she hadn’t expected the comment, or the kiss. Then he sat back.
“Thank you, Brandon,” she murmured. “Um, you’re handling this pretty well yourself.” She was at a loss for words. Then she found some. “Oh, by the way? I don’t think there are any microphones in my bedroom. I appreciate you being so careful, but I don’t think they put any there.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Two reasons. When the Goth attacked me, that guy was screaming at me through the speaker. But he told me not to bother answering. I don’t think it’s a two-way setup, like in your room. So, just to test it, I lay on my bed one night and started talking real mean about them, loud enough that a mic could pick it up. I said some really nasty things, about how ugly and old and silly they were, and how they were such freaks. But to really test it, I said that I was gonna break the bathroom mirror and cut my wrists. That I couldn’t stand it any more. But they never came to stop me. Make sense?”
The boy was impressed again. “Yeah, that was good thinking. If they thought you were gonna off yourself, they’d definitely come running. Um, you weren’t really thinking about that, were you?”
“No, of course not. Me? I’d never do that. Okay, what did you want to talk about?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Oh God, help me, he thought. Oh yeah, like God’s really listening to you! He drew up his knees and rested his arms on them, picking at a hangnail. “Cassie . . . this is so hard. Please don’t say anything until I’m finished, okay? And try not to freak out.”
“Okay, Brandon,” she breathed. What’s this all about? What could he say that would freak me out?
He tried to tell her the truth in a way that wouldn’t scare her too badly. He told her about his background, and the abuse, and his alienation from his parents. He told her that he’d become an emancipated minor at sixteen, which took a bit of explaining, because she’d never heard the term before. He told her that he was eighteen years old, not sixteen or seventeen or whatever she thought, and that he’d been living hand-to-mouth for the past two years. He even told her that he’d dealt some weed, but just as a way of making some quick money, and he emphasized that he rarely used it. “But I smoke and drink. I don’t drink much, just some beers, but I’ve been smoking since I was thirteen. I’m not what you probably think I am, Cassie. But I really, really care about you.” His voice cracked.
She took his hand in hers, looking in his face, trying to catch his eye. “Hey, look at me, will you?” When he did, she nodded her head. “Brandon, none of that stuff matters to me. I really care about you too. But here’s what I don’t understand. If things are so bad between you and your folks, why do these people think they’d pay a ransom?”
He
leaned his head against the wall and covered his face with his hands. “This is the really bad part, Cassie. I know you’re a Christian. Well, if you’ve ever forgiven anybody for anything, you need to forgive me.”
“Forgive you for what, Brandon?”
He took a deep breath. “Cassie, they didn’t kidnap me. They hired me. They wanted me to pretend to be a kidnap victim, and to get close to you . . . and, um, to hook up with you. Like really hook up. You know what I’m saying. It was part of their plan to destroy your religion, or your faith in God. Breaking you down sexually was just a part of it. They figured that once you’d taken that step, it would be easier for you to turn away from God. That’s still what they want, but I’m not doing it.”
Cassie stared at him. Her mind swirled with confusion and disgust. She had a momentary feeling of being outside herself, watching the scene. “You agreed to this?” she said, tears in her eyes.
“No!” he exclaimed. “I never agreed with their plan. I thought it was just plain crazy. Why go to so much trouble to screw up somebody’s head? It was just a way to make some money, so I agreed to do the deal. I’m not proud of it, but I needed the cash. But that was before they broke my nose, and started getting rough. Most of all, it was before I met you. You’ve . . . you’ve changed everything.”
“So you can just come and go as you please? You’re not really a prisoner?” Her mind was trying to process all this, but her heart was complicating things. She wanted to beat him senseless, or just go to her room and cry, but she also wanted to know the truth. She thought she knew this boy, with whom she had suffered and laughed. Was it all just an act?
“No, I’m a prisoner, just like you. They didn’t tell me about that part, either. I don’t have any special privileges or anything. And I think that guy suspects how I’m really feeling. I know he does. After our first . . . wrestling match . . . he talked to me on that speaker in my room. I think he could tell that I was starting to care about you, and he threatened me. He said that if I didn’t go through with the deal, something ‘permanent’ would happen to me.”
Cassie sat in silence, numb, trying to think. Finally, she spoke, a note of bitterness in her voice. “So what now, Brandon? Are you gonna try and rape me, and get your money? That might not be as easy as they seem to think. As you seem to think.” She held up two fingers in a “V” sign, then curled them. “You know I have strong hands. You try anything with me, and your nose will get broken again . . . from the inside. How will you explain that to your bosses? Your wonderful bosses who’ve been so good to you?”
He shook his head, little teardrops flying from his eyes. “Cassie, please. That’s not me. I was never gonna force you, anyway. The girls I’ve known . . . you don’t exactly have to force them. I just wasn’t thinking of anything but the money. You must think I’m garbage. But whatever I did, whatever I agreed to . . . it’s over. If you can forgive me, I want us to be on the same team. No strings attached. You don’t have to like me. Or anything else. . . . I just want us to fight these people together.”
“So what about the times we kissed? Was that part of your job, or was it something real? Let’s see, three or four kisses. I wonder how much each one was worth? Got a calculator with you?” She hated herself for being so cold-blooded, but she was angry and confused and hurt.
“That was real. . . . I’ve been with lots of girls, but that was the only time it’s been real. You’re so different. . . . I guess I can’t make you believe me. I don’t blame you. But can you forgive me?” His eyes pleaded with her. He’d never asked anyone’s forgiveness before.
She stood up and walked about halfway down the hall, her back to him, and stopped. She hugged herself, her shoulders shaking. He knew that she was crying, and he wanted to go to her, to hold her, but he’d lost that opportunity forever.
After the tears stopped, after she’d wiped her nose on the short sleeve of her t-shirt, she remembered a verse that she’d memorized years ago in Sunday School: And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.
It seemed like an eternity to Brandon, but after a few minutes she turned around and walked back to him. She let herself slide down the wall, so that she was sitting with him again. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Brandon . . . I’m not so great, either. I’ve made compromises and taken the easy way out so many times. I’ve had really evil thoughts. When we saw that video of Chad and Madison? I hated them. I played it cool, but. . . .That night I lay on the bed and just imagined what I wanted to do to them. I literally wanted to kill them. And the Bible says that’s as bad as really doing it. Sometimes I’ve acted like I was better than I really am. That’s the worst thing of all. Jesus has forgiven me for so, so much. He always forgives me . . . so I forgive you, for his sake. And yeah, I even believe you.”
“Th-thank you, Cassie.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t thank me. You know who to thank,” she said. “Forgiving that Goth, and her boss . . . that’s gonna be harder.” She squeezed his hand again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Ethan’s Art of War
“Oh, Agent Burgess, I’m so glad you could come.” Cassie’s mother held the door open for him. Daisy sat behind her, not growling, not bristling, just observing.
“Don’t mention it, Barbara,” he replied, stepping into the house. “I came as soon as I got your message. It sounded important. What can I do for you?”
They moved into the living room and sat down. Daisy trotted after the woman, and sat down at her feet. “Well, I felt silly calling,” Mrs. Hixson said. “It has nothing to do with Cassie. But I asked myself if you’d want to hear about it, and I thought you probably would.”
He unbuttoned his jacket and sat back in the chair. She’s feeling awkward. She didn’t offer me a cup of coffee. “Barbara, nothing you or Gordon say is likely to sound silly to me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”
She nodded her head. “You’re very understanding. You see, day before yesterday, Agent Maclean dropped by, just to ‘touch base,’ in her words.” Burgess raised an eyebrow, but Mrs. Hixson didn’t notice. She went on to tell him about Nick’s excitement over meeting the agent, about Maclean’s offer to take him for a ride, and Daisy’s response. “I just felt so strange about it, Agent Burgess. Daisy was trained by professionals, to be a guard dog as well as a pet. And it’s not as if she disliked Agent Maclean. Her first impulse was to get Nick away from her, as though she were a threat. Then, when she grabbed Shannon’s arm in her teeth, I don’t even think she left marks. Daisy’s never attacked anyone that way in her life. I’m terribly embarrassed about this, but. . . .”
“Wait, Barbara,” Burgess interrupted. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’ve seen how the dog acts around strangers. She’s doing her job.” He looked at Daisy with an expert eye. “She’s a thoroughbred. Do you have papers on her?”
“Well, yes. We bought her from a championship breeder in California, and she’s registered with the American Kennel Club.” She smiled. “Daisy is just her ‘call’ name. Her registry name is ‘San Loanne’s Heilige Schrift Liebhaber.’”
Burgess smiled. “I guess a big dog is entitled to a big name. What does it mean?”
Mrs. Hixson returned the smile. “San Loanne was the breeder. A lot of the registry names are in foreign languages, and since she’s a German Shepherd. . . . It means ‘Bible lover,’ because when she was a new puppy, she chewed up one of our Bibles.”
The agent laughed. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and held out his hands, palms upward. “Daisy? Come see me, you pretty thing.”
Mrs. Hixson patted Daisy’s back. “Go to him, girl. Crackle!” She looked up at Burgess. “That means ‘friend.’”
Daisy stood up and padded over to the agent, her tail wagging. She sat down in front of him, and, after letting her sniff his hands, he began to scratch behind her ears. Her tail began to thump. “You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you? Tha
t’s a good girl.”
“See, Agent Burgess? She’s not vicious or moody. Why did she go after Agent Maclean that way?”
What was Maclean doing here in the first place? he asked himself, continuing to play with the dog. “I don’t have any idea, Barbara. But you shouldn’t worry. Maclean wasn’t shaken up or anything. In fact, she didn’t even tell me about the incident.”
But she will, he thought. Daisy had a new friend, and Burgess had a new problem.
* * * * *
After the laughter died down, the group sat silent for a minute or two, each person occupied with some very serious thoughts. Finally, Olivia spoke up.
“You guys are the best,” she began. “If I were in Cassie’s place, I’d want you to be thinking about how to help me. But we need to start making some plans. These kidnappers aren’t gonna wait around forever. If we’re serious about going out there and getting Cassie, we need to do it soon. The only question is, how are we gonna do it? Ideas?”
THE ABDUCTION OF CASSANDRA Page 22
